


Hearts of Olden Glory

by weethreequarter



Series: Marvel Bingo 2019 [2]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Arranged Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Father-Daughter Relationship, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Horses, M/M, Marvel Bingo 2019, Minor Character Death, Nobility, Past Erik Lehnsherr/Magda, not historically accurate, past Charles Xavier/Moira MacTaggart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 08:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weethreequarter/pseuds/weethreequarter
Summary: Erik was no fool. He knew what Shaw was up to by arranging an enviable marriage for him to the infamous Lord Xavier, and before Erik had time to formulate any thoughts on the matter, his future husband was there and they were standing at the alter.Marvel Bingo 2019 - Arranged Marriage





	Hearts of Olden Glory

**Author's Note:**

> I first had the idea for this years - and I do mean years - ago, but never did anything despite being utterly in love with it. Then I got my bingo card and saw the Arranged Marriage square, and came back to it again. After all this time, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. 
> 
> It is vaguely inspired by [In Want of an Heir](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867637)  
> by Nehszriah, Blood Red Horse by KM Grant, and by The James Plays by Rona Munro.

Erik was no fool. He knew what Shaw had planned for him. He'd never trusted the man, never fully understood how that snake had found his way into a position of such power in the court, not only a trusted advisor, but tutor to the young lordship. Erik hated his lessons with Shaw, but he bit his tongue and tried to smile to ease his mother's burden until his father returned from war.

Only, his father never returned, and suddenly his mother and Shaw were declared stewards of the land until Erik himself came of age. But his mother would never see him come of age, because when Erik was fourteen, Shaw killed her.

Erik knew, and Shaw knew Erik knew, but neither of them mentioned it beyond the looks of burning hatred Erik gave Shaw, and the smirks he received in return. 

No, Erik was no fool.

He knew what Shaw was planning, with how he taught Erik to become a warrior. From the outside it appeared a natural progression; as lord of Düssel, it would be his duty to lead his men into battle to defend his lands or his king. But it was more than that, Erik knew. Shaw was training him to be a warrior, a killer, a lamb to the slaughter on some unknown battlefield to allow Shaw to take control himself. Erik didn't particularly care. He had little to live for, and he stopped caring about Düssel when his father died, and all he wanted was revenge for his mother's death. So he would become Shaw's monster and then he would be Shaw's downfall. 

But then he met Magda.

Magda, his beautiful Magda, who saw him as more than a monster, who saw the good in him that he doubted was there. Almost instantly he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman. The fact that his relationship with Magda riled Shaw was an added bonus. He fell deeply in love with her and the two of them eloped. Shaw tried to argue, tried to find grounds to have the marriage annulled, but it was fruitless: Magda was pregnant. And Erik discovered that perhaps there was more to him than the monster he'd always believed, when the midwife placed his screaming daughter into his arms. Erik knew in that moment that he would never love anyone the way he loved his daughter. He kept her as far away from Shaw as possible; Shaw didn't argue, content to continue ruling in Erik's stead. Erik didn't care. He'd relinquished all control of his lands and couldn't even bring himself to care. 

But then he was reminded that there could never be more to him than the monster. He and Magda were returning home with Nina when they were ambushed by bandits. He let his guard down, he let himself become soft - the very thing Shaw had warned him against. 

And as a result he lost his wife and his perfect little girl.

And that was when he knew: there could never be anything more to him than the hatred and rage he'd always known. 

X

"I've found you a husband," Shaw announced. "It's a good match. A political marriage." 

Erik couldn't bring himself to care. 

X

Erik was no fool. He knew what Shaw was up to by arranging an enviable marriage for him to the infamous Lord Xavier, and before Erik had time to formulate any thoughts on the matter, his future husband was there and they were standing at the alter.

Despite the fact that it had been so long since Erik had felt anything but rage and pain and regret, he couldn't deny a flurry of curiosity about the Lord Xavier. He was only a few years younger than Erik, but had been ruler of Westchester for several years now (In Westchester, unlike Düssel, the coming of age occurred at eighteen) since his mother had, controversially and publicly, divorced her second husband and thrown him out. The current Lord Xavier had earned a similar level of infamy himself, when his wife and son were killed the year before. Much discussion had been held over who he would take as his new spouse - as an heir no longer existed - but Erik had never entertained the idea that it would be him. But there was no time to question it; suddenly they was married, then there was a feast, then he was alone with his husband for the first time in a bedchamber.

Erik hesitated by the closed door. His husband seemed to pay him no mind, crossing the room to drop his scabbard onto a chair before beginning to unfasten his tunic. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he glanced at Erik and asked, "Are you going to stand there all night?" When Erik still hesitated, he added, "I'm not going to have sex with you."

"What?" Erik frowned. Consummation was part of marriage. He'd done this before, he knew how tonight was supposed to go. "I don't understand."

"I'll explain tomorrow," his husband replied. "Erik, yes?"

"That's right," Erik nodded, and how strange was it that they've been married for several hours now and they're only just introducing themselves. 

"Charles," his husband said, offering his hand. Erik shook his hand, unsure of what exactly his husband - Charles - had planned. "You should probably strip," Charles added. "I'm not going to have sex with you, but they need to think we have. Thank heavens we're in a civilised part of the world where they don't insist on watching. I don't think my mother ever fully recovered."

"Alright," Erik muttered. He removed his clothes and lay down next to his husband.

"Don't worry, your honour's safe with me," Charles said, curling onto his side.

"My honour buggered off a long time ago," Erik snapped. To his surprise, Charles chuckled, a warm sound that Erik found inexplicable comfort in. 

"Good night Erik," he smiled.

"Good night," Erik echoed, one arm tucked behind his neck as he stared at the ceiling, unable to comprehend this unexpected turn of events. But as Charles had made it clear no explanation was forthcoming until morning, he could do little but lie there and hope for sleep to come.

X

Erik woke to the unfamiliar feeling of fingers weaving through his hair as he grunted and curled away from the voices that woke him, his beard rubbing against a foreign shoulder that had no business being in his bed. Until he woke further and realised that the shoulder belonged to his new husband. Clearly Charles’ fears had not been unfounded, as the chamberlain had been sent to ensure the consummation of the marriage. Apparently their nudity and the way Charles leaned into Erik in unconscious wakening was enough to belay suspicion. 

Once they had dressed and breakfasted, their mounts awaited them in the courtyard. Erik barely spared Shaw a glance before swinging himself onto the back of his mount, already turning away from his childhood home, ready to escape the towering monument that had ceased to feel like home first with the death of his mother, then again with the loss of his family. He held his horse back long enough for Charles to join him, and then they were gone, without a backward glance. 

Once out of the castle and deep within the forest on the road towards Westchester, Charles signalled to his men to fall back. They acquiesced, clearly not anticipating any trouble but retaining a watchful eye. 

“Care to explain what last night was about?” Erik murmured.

“I need an heir,” Charles replied in a similar tone. 

“Then why marry me?”

“Because I will not father any more children,” Charles declared. “I have watched one child die, I will not watch another. Neither will I watch another wife waste away. Neither my sister nor my daughter can inherit my title; they are adopted, and therefore hold no royal blood. You, even before marriage, have royal lineage. When I die, in absence of a direct heir, you can inherit my title and any children you may go on to have can inherit the title from you.”

“And what if I do not want anymore children?” Erik retorted. The idea of another child was abhorrent to him. No one could replace Nina in his heart - or the space where his heart should have been, were he not a monster. 

Charles shrugged.

“Then that is your problem. I shall be long gone by then,” Charles replied. 

So this really was a political marriage. Erik found himself comforted by this fact, that his husband did not expect him to be the dutiful spouse, sitting pretty and falling in love with a stranger. Charles explained that Erik would learn the running of Westchester, so that he could ensure the lands ran smoothly not only after his death, but in his absence to battlefields. It was a long time since he’d thought about running lands, but it was infinitely more agreeable than the thought of being merely an object of virtu. Erik glanced at his husband riding beside him and smiled. 

“What?” Charles frowned, noticing his attention.

“You’re a strange man, Lord Xavier,” Erik replied. 

“Good,” Charles grinned.

They rode for four days, crossing into Westchester mid afternoon on the third day. A day later they sighted the castle for the first time. Erik took the time on the approach to study the building, so different from those he’d grown up with. Where the burg was elegant, the towers slim and topped with pointed roofs, the castle appeared chunky, for lack of a better word. It looked strong and formidable while the burg screamed elegance. Erik liked it. 

The horses of Charles’ guard picked up their pace as they approached, clearly recognising home and they trotted across the wooden bridge spanning the moat until they clattered into the courtyard. Immediately a gang of stablehands appeared, ready to whisk the horses away. The guards relaxed, laughing and calling to their comrades. Charles laughed with them, dismissing them with a wave before swinging off of his mount’s back. His feet had barely touched the ground when they heard a squeal of “ _Charles!_ ” and a blonde haired blur threw herself at Charles. Erik started, his horse stepping back in similar surprise. However Charles seemed to take it all in his stride, laughing and hugging the girl. Erik handed his horse off to an apprehensive squire, then approached his husband.

“Erik, this is my sister, Raven,” Charles explained, presenting the teenage girl with blonde hair and a blue dress. “Raven, meet Erik.”

Raven curtsied and Erik took her hand, pressing the barest of kisses to her knuckles. Raven had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and tossed her head as imperiously as Erik’s mare. But then he was distracted for Charles’ sister by a gasp and a small voice crying, “Papa!”

The owner of the voice was a small child that could only be Charles’ adopted daughter. Erik’s breath caught as he watched the small child - no more than seven or eight - race into Charles’ waiting arms, her red hair flying as Charles swung her around in a circle before balancing her on his hip. “I missed you!”

“Oh, I missed you too, my darling,” Charles laughed. He cupped her cheek, planting a sloppy kiss against her freckled dimples. 

Her bright blue eyes sparkled with laughter as she gazed at her father. Erik swallowed. Memories of Nina, who’d never made it to that age, threatened to overwhelm him. He forced them away. Charles turned to him.

“Jean darling, remember I told you I was going to get married?” Charles said. “Well, this is my new husband, Erik. Erik, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Jean.”

“Hello Jean,” Erik nodded. “How old are you?”

“I’m seven,” Jean replied. Two years older than Nina should be now. 

“Seven?” Erik raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? You seem far too grown up for seven.”

Jean beamed at him from Charles’ arms. Then Erik became aware of a final presence in front of them, this one much calmer but no less intimidating.

Lady Sharon Xavier. 

Lady Xavier was, in Erik’s opinion, legendary. She broke convention not only by publicly divorcing her second husband, but by denouncing him to the world as a bully and a brute. She was a formidable force and Erik felt no small sense of nerves at the thought of meeting her. Nevertheless, he stepped forward, bowing his head then offering his hand.

“Lady Xavier, it is an honour.”

“Please, Erik,” she smiled, shaking his hand, “You’re family now. There is no need for titles. My name is Sharon.” 

Then she turned to her son and pulled him into her embrace as soon as he returned Jean to her own two feet. 

“Welcome home,” Sharon said, cupping her son’s cheek with her palm.

“Good to be home, mother,” Charles smiled.

They led the way inside, and Erik followed, and for the first time he felt something akin to nerves at the beginning of his new life.

X

Charles never planned to marry again. Not after Moira. Not after David. Losing one would’ve been a blow, but losing both of them damn near killed him. His only saving grace was Jean. If not for her, he probably would’ve ended it all with no thought for the consequences for his people. Jean was the only guiding light in his grief, pulling him through the worst until he reached the other side and found himself tentatively considering the future.

But that future had never contained a second marriage.

Unfortunately, a man of his station didn’t have those kinds of options. 

When David died, Charles not only lost a son, Westchester lost an heir. Jean didn’t count to them, as she was adopted and therefore, in their misguided eyes, worthless. Never mind the fact that she would make a formidable ruler if given half the chance. No, she wasn’t enough, and Charles realised with a heavy heart that he would have to consider another marriage. 

He could reconcile himself to the idea of marrying again, if only just.

What he couldn’t live with was the idea of fathering another child. 

Which was why, when he received the offer of marriage on behalf of Lord Lehnsherr of Düssel, an idea began to form. He could marry Lord Lehnsherr and never worry about fathering a child. Not when his husband held royal blood, and could therefore rule in his stead.

It was rather inelegant, marrying one’s heir, but what other choice did he have? 

Charles accepted the proposal, travelled to Düssel to marry Lord Lehnsherr before explaining the situation on the journey home.

Lord Lehnsherr appeared sullen and withdrawn, but he smiled around Jean and was polite to his mother, so Charles could forgive him any eccentricities. 

It wasn’t a perfect situation, but it was wildly preferable to the alternative.

X

Erik took one look at the accounts and understood exactly what was going on and told his husband so.

Charles smiled.

“You’ll do,” he said, and Erik glowered at him.

X

Every night, Erik climbed into bed with his husband, but nothing ever occurred between them.

Not that he was complaining about that. No, that wasn’t the problem. No, the problem was that in Westchester, the bed sat against the wall in the corner of the room and the spouse slept next to the wall so that, in the case of attack or invasion, the Lord could defend his spouse, protecting them future lineage of Westchester.

It was outdated and offensive and fucking ridiculous. 

The idea that Erik couldn’t defend himself was laughable, and he told Charles as much. Charles just shrugged and ignored his complaints. Erik glared at him. After all, Erik was a monster. He didn’t need defending. He continued to needle Charles about it. Until Charles snapped, and that night they discovered that they were good at arguing. 

The anger rarely lingered, but their most of their interactions consisted of arguments.

It wasn’t what Erik imagined for a marriage, before, when he still had Magda and Nina. But this marriage wasn’t like that one. This one was political, that one was for love. So he ignored those thoughts, and argued with his husband, if only to forget how desperately lonely he was.

X

Erik wandered through the halls, at a loss as to how to occupy himself, when he stumbled across Jean. He'd had very little interaction with the small red headed girl since his arrival at the castle; other than meal times, he never saw her. He always assumed she and Raven were playmates. But here was Jean, playing alone, with no Raven in sight. 

Erik stepped awkwardly into the nursery, unsure of how to announce himself, but Jean looked up before he could say anything and grinned shyly at him.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," Erik nodded. "Having fun?"

"I guess," Jean shrugged. "It's lonely."

Erik remembered only too well his own lonesome childhood. When Nina was born he made a promise to himself that his daughter would never suffer the same way. Now Nina was gone, and it appeared his stepdaughter was the one in need of friendship.

"Doesn't Raven play with you?" he asked.

Jean scrunched up her nose, and Erik told himself that he absolutely did not find it utterly adorable.

"No," she retorted. "She's boring. She wants to be grown up and talk about boys and dresses. I'd rather go play outside. Or go to the stables!"

"Then why don't you?" Erik asked.

"I'm not allowed on my own," Jean shrugged, "And papa's busy."

Suddenly Erik realised that Jean had lost her mother and her brother too. No doubt David, closer in age and a boy, would've been more than happy to play the sort of games it appeared Jean favoured. She had lost a caregiver and a playmate in one fell swoop. Erik's heart ached for her.

Crouching down beside her, he suggested, "Perhaps I could take you?"

Immediately Jean's face lit up.

"Really?" she gasped.

"Of course," Erik smiled. Her toys were instantly abandoned as Jean leaped to her feet.

"Yes please!" she declared. "I can show you my horse!" 

Erika straightened and offered his his hand, trying to ignore the memories of Nina as her small hand slipped into his calloused palm.

"Lead the way," he replied.

X

Jean's horse was a chestnut Shetland pony who blinked at them through a thick blond forelock. Jean fussed over the animal immediately, her fingers running through his chestnut coat as he sniffed eagerly for treats. Erik smirked and offered him a horse treat from his pocket. 

"This is my horse. His name is Phoenix," Jean declared. 

"That's a big name for a little pony," Erik smiled, ruffling Phoenix's forelock. The little pony nipped at Erik's sleeve in retaliation, before deciding Jean's handful of hay was more interesting. 

"Do you have a horse?" Jean asked.

"I do," Erik nodded.

"Can I see him?" she asked. "Please?"

Erik led her through the stables, into the far end where the war horses were housed. Jean stared up at the horses she never usually would've been allowed near with wide eyes, while Erik made sure they took a wide berth around Alex's horse; that animal wasn't named Havok for nothing. At the end of the row, next to Charles' own horse, was his beloved destrier.

Jean gasped.

"He's pretty! What's his name?" she gushed.

"Her name's Magneto, but you can call her Maggie," Erik replied. 

Most destriers were stallions or geldings, and boasted strength and musculature. When Erik had chosen Maggie to be his mount, the rest of the knights and Shaw had laughed themselves hoarse. Mares were notoriously unpredictable, and she was so slight compared to the other war horses. But for her small frame, she was strong and fast, easily leaping out of the way of oncoming projectiles. And her temperament bordered on bad to impossible on good days, her teeth bared at anyone who came too close. Maggie had only ever shown any form of affection for two people. One was Erik himself.

The other was Nina.

The big horse had been around his infant daughter practically from birth, and was never more gentle than when Nina toddled around her hooves. Which was why he had no doubt that Maggie would show the same affection towards Jean.

"She's so pretty," Jean murmured.

As soon as she recognised his scent, Maggie ambled over to the front of her stall, a low whicker of greeting echoing in her throat. Erik smiled. He reached out a hand, and when Maggie bent her neck to sniff for treats, he continued to lower his hand until her head was low enough for Jean to reach.

"Blow gently into her nose," Erik instructed. He crouched down at Jean's side. "Like this, see?" He demonstrated, exhaling onto Maggie's snout, her nostrils flaring as she took in the familiar scent. He scrunched up his nose at the huff of warm air when she returned the gesture. "Your turn," he said to Jean.

Jean carefully copied his action, giggling when Maggie's breath tickled her button nose. 

"What's that for?" Jean asked.

"Now she knows your smell," Erik explained, scratching his horse's chin. "She'll remember you're a friend. Go on, you can pat her. She's friendly."

Maggie indulged Jean, allowing her to pat her nose carefully, before shuffling against the girl's hand for the treat she’d smelled since they arrived. Erik chuckled and slipped it into Jean's hand.

"Hold your hand flat," he instructed, "And don't move away until she's taken it. She won't bite you." 

Jean watched with wide eyes as Maggie took the treat delicately, crunching it loudly then tossing her red mane imperiously and returning to the back of her stall. 

“I like her,” Jean announced, grinning up at him. Erik felt a rush of affection for the girl - no, he realised, his stepdaughter - and allowed his hand to cup the back of her head, fingers winding through her red locks the way they used to in Nina’s dark hair. 

“Do you know how to ride?” he asked, suddenly painfully aware of how little he knew of his stepdaughter’s life other than the fact that she was adopted. 

“A little,” Jean shrugged. “But the instructor left so there’s no one but papa to teach me, and he’s busy a lot.”

“Why don’t I teach you?” Erik suggested before his brain realised what his mouth was saying. 

“Really?” Jean gasped.

“If your papa says it’s alright,” Erik nodded. 

“Yes!” Jean squealed, earning a snort of surprise from Maggie in her stall. “Yes!” 

Jean jumped towards him, clearly about to throw herself at him, then stopped suddenly, her face falling into a frown.

“What do I call you?” she asked.

“My name’s Erik.”

“I know that,” she rolled her eyes. “But what do _I_ call you? I can’t call you papa, because I already have a papa.”

Erik wished Charles was here. This was a discussion they should have with her father present. But Charles was busy with his duties, and there was no one but Erik to answer Jean’s question. 

“Back in my lands,” he heard himself explain, “We have another word for papa: vati.”

“Vati,” Jean echoed. Then she beamed at him. “So I can call you vati!”

“Perhaps we should ask your papa…” Erik replied weakly as Jean grabbed his hand and, with a surprisingly strong grip, pulled him back towards the castle. 

X

“Papa! Papa, papa, papa!”

Charles was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of his daughter’s voice. His face broke into a smile, which only widened when he saw how Jean was dragging Erik after her. 

“Hello my darling,” Charles grinned, bending to scoop Jean into his arms. He pressed a kiss against her temple, burying his face into her hair and breathing in the comforting smell that was unique to his remaining child. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“We went to the stables and saw Phoenix and Maggie and vati said he’d teach me to ride but you have to say okay first,” Jean blurted out beaming at him.

“Vati?” Charles echoed.

“It means papa,” Jean replied. “Please papa? Please?”

“Of course he can teach you to ride,” Charles smiled. He kissed her again. “Why don’t you go play? I need to speak to vati.”

“Okay,” Jean nodded. She squirmed as he placed her back on her feet before rushing off in a cloud of red hair and skirts.

When Charles turned to Erik, he found his husband wearing an expression that cried of awkwardness and discomfort.

“She asked what she should call me, I didn’t know what to say,” Erik explained without meeting Charles’ eyes. “I tried to tell her we should ask you first-“

“If you ever manage to get Jean to listen to you, then you must tell me the secret immediately,” Charles smiled. Erik visibly relaxed. “I’m sorry Erik, I should’ve discussed this with you, rather than leaving you on the spot like that. It was unfair of me.”

“That’s… I… It’s alright,” Erik muttered. 

“Vati; is that in the language of your lands?” Charles asked. While the common tongue had only ever been spoken in Westchester for as long as Charles was aware, he knew that Erik’s lands were different. 

“The old language,” Erik nodded.

“It may be an idea for you to teach the old language to Jean,” Charles suggested. “Raven too, since we shall have close ties together from now on. If you don’t mind of course.”

“Not at all.”

“Erik, I don’t mind Jean calling you vati,” Charles added softly. “She’s had rather bad luck with parents over the years; if you are willing to be a parental figure to her, I would be honoured.”

“I… don’t mind either,” Erik said slowly, sounding almost surprised at his own words. Charles wondered if it was due in part to Erik’s own deceased child. Truly, he did not mind Jean referring to Erik as her father. Erik had just as much claim to the title as Charles himself. He was glad they appeared to be bonding. 

“And I would love for you to teach her how to ride,” Charles continued. “I know how much she loves it, and unfortunately I just do not have the time to teach her myself as often as she would like.”

Erik nodded. He appeared much more relaxed than at the start of the conversation. 

“I’d be happy to teach her,” he said. “How much has she done in the past?”

“Walking and a little trotting mostly,” Charles replied. 

“I’ll work on increasing her confidence, then teach her how to jump and how to fall, then start to teach her hunting, if you have no objections?”

“How to fall?” Charles frowned.

“Yes. Falling is part of riding,” Erik shrugged, “However I can teach her how to fall in a way that minimises her chances of injury.”

“Perhaps we should all be taking lessons from you,” Charles smiled. “If you don’t mind, I’ll mention to mother that if Raven wants to continue with riding too, she could join you?”

“Of course,” Erik nodded.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Charles added. “She’s at the age where boys are more interesting than horses. I’m thankful that Jean appears to have a greater interest in exploring and riding than anything else!” 

Erik smiled.

“She’s a bright girl. You should be proud.”

“I am,” Charles smiled. 

It was, he realised, the longest conversation he’d ever held with his husband - arguments notwithstanding - and suddenly felt closer to Erik than he had since their marriage.

X

Riding lessons with Jean brightened Erik’s life in a way that, until now, seemed unimaginable to him. She was a clever girl, a quick study, and he found himself smiling more than he had since he lost his family. Sometimes Raven would join them when they rode out, but more often than not, as Charles predicted, Raven was disinterested in riding. 

As Jean progressed however, Erik found himself being invited to hunt with Lady Sharon. The three of them - Erik, Jean, and Lady Sharon - would ride out with only the most meagre of guards, and spend the afternoon hunting in the forests surrounding the castle, before returning home in time for supper.

On one such hunt, Lady Sharon drew her mount level with Erik’s - not too close, because they’d all learned that Maggie would object to that - and smiled across at him.

“It’s good to see you smile, Erik,” Lady Sharon said. “You look like the young man you are when you do.”

“Thank you,” Erik replied awkwardly, unsure of how else to respond. 

Luckily, Lady Sharon sensed his discomfort, smiling at him once more, before urging her horse on to catch Jean and Phoenix. 

X

They didn’t argue the same way anymore, Erik realised as he lay in bed, waiting for Charles to join him. They still argued, and they would always argue, but there was no longer the undercurrent of tension, something waiting to snap. Now, when they argued, it was almost as though they were testing each other, seeing how far they could comfortably push the other, because it was a silent agreement that neither of them wanted to go too far. 

Not now.

Not when Jean could get hurt.

Now, when they argued, they did it for fun. To tease the other, to wind them up and watch them go for their own amusement.

“It’s ridiculous,” Erik declared when Charles returned to the bedroom. “I do not need protection.”

Charles sighed, rolling his eyes, both of them barely containing their smiles.

“Just this once, darling,” Charles replied. “Can’t you humour me?”

He climbed into bed, looming over Erik. But Erik didn’t feel intimidated, didn’t feel the need to push Charles away or down to his level. He felt safe.

He felt protected.

Erik’s eyes flickered down to Charles’ mouth and realised with a jolt that he wanted to kiss his husband.

“Fine,” he huffed. “Just this once. Because it’s you.”

“My God, I shall have to make this day a national holiday,” Charles grinned. “The first time my husband actually listens to me.”

Erik sighed, then poked Charles in the side, grinning when he squirmed away.

“Good night Charles,” he declared, flopping onto his other side dramatically.

“Good night Erik.”

The words were accompanied by a soft squeeze of his shoulder, and a hand running down his arm. 

It took all of Erik’s willpower not to roll over and hold Charles in his arms.

X

Once it would’ve seemed incredible that he and Erik would even become friends, but now it appeared that they were tumbling towards becoming more.

The realisation should’ve been terrifying, and on some level it was, but mostly Charles simply felt hope. It was a long time since he’d felt hopeful. But now, with Erik in his life, and his obvious devotion to Jean, Charles felt hope for the first time since his wife and son died. 

He and Erik were dancing on the edge of something new, something exciting, and he actually wanted it.

Of course, that was when it all changed. 

The reports began to reach Westchester, followed quickly by the survivors. It was only a matter of time before they heard them. The stories of the loss, the experiments, the cruelty laid down in the name of Lehnsherr across Düssel. Charles could see the weight they placed upon his husband, could see it in the frown between his eyebrows that only vanished while Erik was with Jean, and Charles knew it was only a matter of time before it all slipped away from him. 

This was the curse of hope. 

It promised joy, then the world tore it away.

So it was no surprise to find Erik waiting for him in their bedroom, his face drawn and full of sorrow in a way that it hadn’t been in so long.

“I have shirked my responsibilities as Lord of Düssel for too long. I have to go.”

“I know,” Charles nodded. “I would expect nothing less.”

Erik’s face clouded.

“They have seen plenty _less_ from me so far.”

“You were in pain,” Charles reminded him.

“But I’m not now,” Erik said softly, looking at Charles with an intensity that Charles thought might burn him. And what did it say about him that he welcomed the fire? Even though it could only mean devastation?

Erik closed the distance between them, a hand reaching out hesitantly to wind a lock of Charles’ hair around his finger. Their breath came in tandem. Charles leaned forward and Erik met him halfway, their lips brushing until the kiss turned deeper, darker. Their first, since their marriage.

Erik took his hand, leading him back towards the bed, then hesitated.

Charles pushed him down, sliding into the space between Erik’s legs before leaning down to kiss up again and again. Gasping, they pushed their foreheads together, touching from chest to groin, feeling the other’s hardness against their own. Charles stared deep into Erik’s eyes. Asking. Silently.

Erik nodded.

Finally, almost two years to the day since their wedding night, their marriage was consummated.

X

Jean’s tears were almost enough to change his mind, were it not for the knowledge that his people were suffering far worse than tears, and that it was his negligence that had allowed Shaw to treat them that way. Instead, Erik held her tight, murmuring assurances in her ear and pressing kisses against her red hair. Eventually, Lady Sharon stepped forward. With a hand on Jean’s shoulder, she pulled her granddaughter back. Erik smiled and brushed Jean’s tears away with his thumb.

“Be good,” he ordered.

“I will,” Jean promised.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” he grinned, and that managed to elicit a small smile from his daughter. “I love you,” he told her.

“Love you too, vati.”

When he straightened, Erik was surprised to be pulled in by his mother-in-law, a soft kiss against his cheek.

“Take care of yourself,” Lady Sharon told him.

“I will,” he nodded.

He received a tearful hug from Raven, who was determinedly trying not to cry, before turning at last to Charles.

Charles.

His husband. In every way.

Erik swallowed.

They moved forward as one, slotting into each other as they pressed their foreheads together again, just like the did last night in bed. Erik breathed in, and wondered how he ever could’ve imagined resisting this.

“We’ll be here,” Charles murmured. “Waiting. For you.”

Erik nodded.

He took Charles’ hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Charles nodded, his eyes bright with unshed tears, as he cupped Erik’s cheek.

Then Erik tore himself away before he could change his mind, swinging himself up onto Maggie’s back. He gave his family one last look, one last smile, before leading the way out of the castle, the thunder of hooded filling the courtyard before they raced across the bridge. 

Once out of the castle, Erik surreptitiously wiped his eyes before Alex and Sean rode up on either side of him.

“You ready for this?” Alex asked.

Erik smiled, at the thought of finally avenging his mother’s death.

“Let’s find out.”

X

When Erik finally rode Maggie back across that wooden bridge and into the courtyard, it was a long fourteen months later. As he climbed off of the mare, his leg stiff from the wound several months before, and handed her over to the waiting stablehand with a nod of thanks, he heard a gasp of, “Vati!”

Erik spun around, a grin breaking across his face as Jean flew down the steps and into his arms.

“Jean,” he murmured, burying his face into her red hair and breathing her in. 

“Vati,” she echoed.

Erik pulled back just enough to hold her face in his hands, never even trying to hold back the tears of joy that spilled down his face.

“You’ve grown so much,” he whispered. “I missed you, liebchen.”

“I missed you too, vati.”

Erik smiled, kissing her forehead, when movement behind her drew his eye.

He sucked in a breath.

Charles smiled.

Erik stood, crossing the distance between them in three quick strides to gather his husband in his arms. He paused, their lips inches from each other, allowing Charles to make that final move and kiss him.

Gods, Erik had _missed_ him. 

Finally they broke apart, foreheads together.

Charles smiled.

“Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


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